Anywhere, Everywhere
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: "We never did get a honeymoon, did we?"


It takes a few months for the itch to set in. They get the Library put back in order, Flynn and Eve settle into their new roles as immortal anchors to the Library, and they have an entire _slew_ of cases that just pile on the insanity for a while, including an incident involving Ezekiel's mother and the magic door which he _never_ wants to repeat, although he has the feeling that he'll be visiting Mum a lot more often now. She just _loves_ Jacob, and she's already invited him to visit whenever he wants. And at one point, Jacob becomes a tree. It's a weird couple of months for certain.

But the itch does come. Ezekiel doesn't even notice it, and he's always taken a certain kind of pride in knowing things about Jacob that nobody else does. One day, when they're at home relaxing in the lull between cases, the cowboy pauses in running his fingers through Ezekiel's hair and looks down at him with a determination. "Let's go, Jonesy."

"Go? Go where?" he asks, puzzled.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. And I don't mean just going somewhere for a case. I mean actually travelling somewhere."

Ezekiel arches his eyebrows. "What, like a vacation? Librarians take Europe?" he asks, half-teasing, but the look on Jacob's face is wholly serious, a light in his gaze. It hits him then. His geek's caught the itch, the need to be off and about because they _can_ and they _haven't_ and it's an imbalance that needs to be corrected with all due haste. Ezekiel knows that feeling, he's caught it himself; when one has the ability to go anywhere, well, why not go, then? He hasn't had it for a while now, relishing instead the sensation of putting down roots and finding a _home_ again, but Jacob...Jacob has an entire lifetime of wanting bottled up in him. And, well, maybe it's time for Ezekiel to dust off his passport again. He smiles and puts his head back against the historian's lap. "Y'know...we never did get a honeymoon," he says after a moment; Jacob grins at him.

So, they go. Flynn's the only one who's confused as to why. Eve and Cassandra both _know,_ even though they've never actually announced anything. Female intuition is never a thing to be doubted. And Jenkins has been around the block more than anyone; of course he knows. They'll keep their mobiles on, but Ezekiel knows the Library won't be calling unless there's at least a Level 9 apocalyptic event. He gives Jacob a present to mark the occasion: four brand-new notebooks and a set of pens. The historian writes down _everything,_ and he has since he was a boy, a habit he picked up from his mother. There's entire boxes filled with nothing but notebooks dating back to 1979 in their attic. He knows he'll probably need to get more before their trip is over.

Nearly every country they visit, Jacob knows the languages of. And if he doesn't, it only takes him a few days to pick up enough to make himself understood to natives. There's some places that Ezekiel can't go, either because he's on a Most Wanted list or because he's pissed off the local criminal enterprises enough to be dangerous, but even that can't put a dent in Jacob's enthusiasm. He just finds different places for them to visit instead. They don't really use the Back Door to travel, since the others need it for their cases. It's not so bad, though. Jacob actually _likes_ the travelling part, the trains and planes and boats, and while Ezekiel gives away the majority of what he steals, he's no penny-pincher. Money is not a thing they have to worry about being short of, _ever._

They see the sights and explore new ones. Jacob can talk about the history and the art for _hours_ if nobody interrupts him, and Ezekiel's not short on his own stories to tell, of course. Everyday, the historian writes in his notebooks. Sometimes Ezekiel will sketch things in there for him. Jacob might be good at identifying art, but he's not too good at drawing it himself. Ezekiel's a fair hand at it, though; after they leave Malta, Jacob gives him a sketchbook and a set of charcoal pencils.

He convinces Jacob to assist him on a heist in Kathmandu. It takes a bit of sweet-talking, but it pays off in spades because not only do they get away without setting off a single alarm, but shortly after, the cowboy hauls him back to their hotel and shags him six ways to Sunday. Apparently, breaking the law is an aphrodisiac of his. Who knew?

They don't make it back to the Library for nearly a year. It's a hell of a honeymoon, but hey, the world hasn't fallen apart yet, so why rush? Finally, though, when they're lounging on a beach in Greece that Ezekiel can't pronounce, he looks over at Jacob, who's lounging in a chair in just his trunks and sunglasses, soaking up the sun. His dark hair's a few shades lighter from the constant sun, and it's grown out into a tangle of curls that Ezekiel loves to tangle his fingers in. "What do you think, love?" he asks. "Think we ought to head back, make sure they haven't burnt the place down or something?"

His husband raises his shades to gaze at him, a smile playing at his lips, lazy and satisfied. "Yeah. Let's go home, Jonesy."


End file.
